Self-imposed orgasm denial

At some point, I got it into my head that if someone has ever told me I'm not allowed to cum unless given permission, I'm from then on never allowed to cum without permission. It may have only been meant to last until the order was rescinded, an isolated exercise in torture and obedience. But I seem to get over-enthusiastic about my submission, and take it upon myself to decide that it was a permanent order.

The philosopher would say NO TOUCHING, NO CUMMING, and that was it until he specifically declared that he couldn't run my life and write his dissertation at the same time. My orgasms were mine again.

Even though I didn't want them.

So here I am, horny as hell, trying to decide whether I can in good conscience give myself a rousing good orgasm tonight. Meanwhile, Marko is on the sofa at my feet, lying on his side, belly presented for rubbing. I oblige and you can see him go into a kitty pleasure trance, his expression hinting at a state of extreme physical delight as his paws knead the air and he twists his body to signify "more, please..."

I'm jealous.

I want someone touching my body, fondling my belly - among other places. But I want to be bound. I want to moan from the torment of the pleasure as I pull against the ropes. I want to cry out in pain as my nipples are twisted. I want to look up and see a face framed by long red hair and lit by the candle he is holding and contemplating, waiting for the hot wax to pool so he can let it drip on my breasts. I want to watch the expression on his face - deliberate, detached, and yet aroused - as he overcomes his innate caution and brings the flame closer and closer to my body until the wax really hurts.

Until I scream.

They won't have been my first screams tonight. He would have already spanked me. Hard. Numerous times.

I like being spanked.
Which is a weird thing to say.
It hurts.
It can hurt a lot.
It's not that it is pleasant.
It hurts.
And I'm not a masochist.
But as pain goes it is a sensation I can appreciate.
And it turns me on.

Just thinking about it is making me wet and twitchy.

Sigh...

And then after the spanking he would have beat my ass with his belt.

I remember the time he accidentally belted my cunt. Very hard. My screams probably reached the White House 10 miles away. He was mortified at having hurt me like that accidentally. It was really pretty funny. As well as painful. Especially because I did find it very arousing.

I left a puddle on the black leather ottoman.

There isn't really any reason why I can't cum tonight... why I can't think of him grabbing my wild hair in his fist as I lie there bound to the futon... why I can't think of him raping my mouth... why I can't think of him cumming in my mouth... why I can't remember the sound of his voice ordering me "Cum for me kitten. Now!"

It's the moon. Monday will be a full moon. I'm a child of nature, beholden to the sun and wind and seasons. The nearly full moon teases my body, flicking at my nipples and my clitoris with a small whip, precise and insistent, while I squirm and whimper.

The moon controls my tides.

I am her slave.

Maybe if I dedicated my orgasm to her...